


The Days You Didn't Mention

by Anonymous_Astronaut



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Brothers, Ford Pines Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, NO SHIPPING PLS, Panic Attacks, Stan Pines Needs A Hug, Time Travel, Young Stan Pines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:34:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Astronaut/pseuds/Anonymous_Astronaut
Summary: Turns out there is still work to be done before the brothers get their long awaited boating adventure, and the past just can't stay in the past.
Comments: 31
Kudos: 116





	1. Time for Time

**Author's Note:**

> Question: How much emotional trauma can I put these poor old men through?  
> Answer: Never enough.

Stan expertly pretended to pay attention to the rerun of Ducktales playing in front of him, excuse as to why he was watching a kids cartoon by himself already formulated, but in reality his brain was more focused on the lack of excited voices and running feet disturbing his evening. Mabel and Dipper had left gravity falls two days ago for the school year, and if asked he would have said it was the best and most peaceful his summer had been so far.

You know, like a liar. 

But Stanley Pines lied to people for a living so by now, he was pretty damn good at it. 

“Stanley!”

“GAH!”

He startled at the shout from behind him, flinging the remote through the air and twisting to glare at the owner of the offending voice. “ _Hot Belgian waffles_ Ford, do you _want_ to give me a heart attack??”

As usual, his brother was far too distracted with other matters to process a single word he said. “Stanley, I need you to listen to me, this is important”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “Did you finish charting the course you want us to take?”

Ford seemed entirely too interested in his watch, and waved the question away. “No, that’s exactly what I’m doing right now.” He pulled out a notebook and started scribbling furiously on it. 

Stan stood and wiped chips off his boxers and undershirt, staring at the notebook questioningly. “I thought you were doing that in the basement. On a map. Said you needed all your equipment and whatnot to find weirdness or whatever.” The hopeful thought crossed his mind that maybe Ford wanted his input on where they should chart their sailing trip together.

Instead, he got a smirk. “I _am_ in the basement.”

Stan frowned. He opened his mouth, thought for and second, then decided on, “Okay you’ve lost me there” 

Ford took his pen in his mouth so he could rip out a page from his book and give it to Stanley, mumbling around the pen until his hand was free to take it again. “I’m not your Ford, Stan, I’m the Ford from a few hours from now.”

Stanley’s heart dropped and he felt his senses sharpen as a little bit of fear seeped in through the seams. This sounded like weirdness. He didn’t trust weirdness. He swallowed thickly. “Uh...What?”

Ford finally seemed to focus on him and met his eyes. “Right now I am downstairs charting our course for the trip -it’s really nice by the way I can’t wait for you to see it- but I need you to go down there and tell me what needs to happen next.”

“Uhh, okay? What kinda thing are we talking about?”

“Do you remember 86?”

He frowned and nodded, but abandoned the action halfway through. “Ye-kind of?”

“You opened through to the secrete section in my lab.”

“Oh yeah, big break in getting the portal open, that was in 86?”

Ford’s serious expression took on that look he got when he was intentionally adding dramatic effect. “Yes. Now, how did you get the password for that?”

Stan was pretty sure he’d missed the punchline somewhere. “I don’t know, I’m sure I found it somewhere?” 

“No.” Ford acted like he was offering some big reveal. “You got it from _me_.” 

Stanley’s eyebrow swooped up his forehead. “You were a little far away Sixer, I couldn’t exactly call you up!”

The grin Stan knew his twin had been holding back finally broke through. “No, not 35 year old me, _me_ me. I just got back from giving it to young you. And now I’m telling _you_ you. It’s fascinating really, I was informed by my Stanley, who was informed by the previous me. It’s a never ending loop of informants all to let your 35 year old self know a single password- how we haven't been arrested yet for time violation is beyond me- how a loop like this even _begins_ is beyond me, but I suppose it is just what needs to happen to keep this dimension from falling apart.”

Stanley, overwhelmed, waved to stop him. “Wait wait wait, hold on. If all this really happened in 1986, why don’t I remember it? I’m pretty sure my long lost brother popping in for a quick chat looking like an old fart is something I’d keep in mind.”

Ford snapped a six fingered hand and pointed at him. “Ah yes, the most important part. And watch who you’re calling old, we’re the same age. Usually. Right now I’ve got a couple hours on you, rather than just fifteen minutes.” His small smile faded as he reached into his trench coat and pulled out the memory gun. “I’m sure you’ve got one of these in your time, yes?”

“Woah!” Stan stumbled back a step. “Careful with that thing!” He knew the power of it all too well, there were _still_ memories he didn't have because of it.

“I’m always careful. All your Stanford has to do is is wipe everything about the event from young Stan's memory before he leaves and make sure he has the password. It turns out fine, I promise.” He tucked it back into his coat.

Stanley’s eyes had been widening slightly with each word from fords mouth, and he stood there attempting to process anything that had just been said to him. “Ya know, Sixer, you were always the brains of the family, shouldn’t you be the one to tell Ford -my Ford- yourself?”

Ford smiled reassuringly, and put a hand on Stan shoulder. “That could quite possibly tear this dimension in two if we got too close to each other. Besides, that’s why I’ve written it down,” he gestured to the torn page in Stan's hand, “Everything you need to know, just don’t let other me touch it. We want to keep the galaxy in tact.”

Heart rate at what he was sure were troubling levels for his age, Stan went for a smile. “Got it. Not tear up the galaxy. Right.”

His brother gave him a wink and a pat on the shoulder. “Great.” He pulled out a small tape measure and brandished it proudly. “Now this here is how your Ford will get to the past. It’s rigged somehow so that it’ll stay here for you to use when I use it to get back to my own time, or at least that’s how it happened for the last Stanley. It’s just been getting passed on from twin to twin for who knows how many loops. Hopefully it works.” He grinned with excitement, which Stan somehow doubted was the entirely sane response. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you.”

Stan blinked, nodding automatically, “Oh yeah, for sure uh, future ford.” 

Ford took a step back and held the measuring tape in front of him, but hesitated before he pulled out the tape. A weird expression that Stan couldn't quite read took hold of his face, and suddenly he met his brothers eyes. “Stanley?”

The ex con man stood there in his pajamas, stripped of any lies or facades, and felt oddly vulnerable all of a sudden. He shifted and scratched his head. “Uh...yeah?”

Ford coughed, and became interested in the floor, but his voice remained determined. “Thanks. Again. For saving me. For...everything.”

With that, he pulled the tape, and it clattered to the ground as he disappeared.

Stan stared at it for a good five seconds before taking an extremely long breath. “Okay. Guess I’m saving the world again. No rest for the wicked am I right?”

Note in hand, he scooped up the tape measure and made off for the basement.


	2. Agree to Dislike

“Dammit Poindexter, why do you have so much junk in this hallway? I’m going to twist the only working joint I have left!”

Sitting straight-backed at his desk, Ford rolled his eyes at the sound of his twin approaching behind him, and promptly ignored his grumpy attitude. “Ah, good timing Stanley! I am almost finished with charting our course.”

“Yeah, yeah, listen you might want to know about what happened upstairs just now.”

“I’m sure it’s very interesting but if you just let me finish-“

Knowing that cool science stuff was the only thing that could take his brothers mind off of _other_ cool science stuff, Stan simply held up the tape measure. Ford’s expression immediately hardened, and he stood quickly.

“Stanley be extremely cautious that device is dangerous, where did you get that?”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “You, actually.” 

Stanley managed to convey, in many less scientific and more made up words, essentially what "future" Ford had told him. He scanned the scribbled note, making sure he hadn’t left anything out. “Yeah so, guess we just go back there and tell little ol’ me that-“

Fords brows furrowed and he cut in. “Wait, we? Did he say that? Did he say that both of us go?”

Stan blinked. He hadn’t even considered Ford doing this on his own, but now it seemed pretty obvious that he would be. “Well...no”

Ford nodded knowingly and opened his mouth to continue, but Stanley blurted out before he could say anything. 

“But wouldn’t it be better if I go?” He looked as if he regretted speaking, but continued anyway. “1986 was- I was- that is... he’s gonna be- and seeing you might- it might be easier to explain if I-“ ford watched his brothers anxiety manifest itself, his sentences doubling back on themselves and a hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. 

Not willing to watch his brother drown in his own words anymore, Ford held up his hands to stop the babble of words.  
“No. Stanley, that is incredibly dangerous. I understand that it is complicated but If you two get too close to yourselves it could-“

“Tear apart the universe, right.” Stan folded his arms, frown deepening in thought. Ford got the feeling that there was something Stanley was holding back, but he let it go. “Yes. It’s far safer if I go, the younger me won’t even be in the same dimension at that time. I think I was somewhere in C-137 back then.” Ford nodded to himself, taking up the tape measure and turning it in his hands. “It’s decided then, I go alone. 1986, I find you, I give you the password. Simple.”

“I don’t like this, Ford.” 

The scientist looked up to find his twins face hard and guarded, but somehow more vulnerable then he’d seen it in a while. 

“I don’t... what if something happens and I’m not there to help?” There was an old hurt in Stan's eyes that made Ford ache. It looked an awful lot like guilt.

“I can handle myself Stanley.” Ford attempted at reassurance, but it come out sharper than he intended.

Stan groaned, “I _know_ Stanford, that’s not what I’m saying!” He grimaced. both of them could tell this was escalating into an argument, though neither of them wanted it to. “Ugh, It’s just I thought we were sticking together now! Who says we even have to do this stupid time travel thing in the first place, I obviously made it through fine back then on my own!"

Ford was already shaking his head. “The fact that I’m holding this device right now proves that you didn’t."

Stan scoffed, but it sounded faked. "Says who?"

He set the tape measure down on the desk a little harder than necessary. "Says the rules of time and space, Stan."

"How would you know?" Stan quipped back, but regretted as soon as the words left his mouth.

Ford glared at him. "You learn a few things after coming in contact with time giants, oh, or did you forget about the thirty years I spent off planet?! The point is there is no question of "if" Stanley, we don't have the luxury of choice! This is a fixed loop- it’s not something we want to mess with, we can’t risk changing events!”

"What if I don't care what time says!?"

"We can't risk the universe because you don't _care_ Stanley!"

Stans temper flared, “Well I can’t risk losing you again!” He slammed his hands with a resounding thud on the chair back between them. 

Ford fell silent, and Stans gripped the seat as his head slumped down into his hunched shoulders. His voice lowered to a low, tired murmur. “I can’t lose you, Sixer.”

Stunned for just a moment, Ford snapped out of it and stepped in to grip his brother by the shoulders. “And you’re not going to." 

Stan looked up to meet his brothers eyes, and found them clear of blame or anger.

"I can do this, Stan- in fact I already have. You’ve seen proof of that, that’s how we got into this mess in the first place. Here look.” Ford turned to grab the tape measure off his desk, and held it out towards his twin. “Here's your proof. Trust me. I’ve been around the multiverse, a little time hopping’s got nothing on me.”

He held up the little time machine and grinned bravely at it, going for reassurance and hoping he hit the mark.

Stan chuckled, and Ford’s chest felt lighter with it. “Yeah. Yeah you’re probably right, you nerd. Fine, I’ll let you go alone.”

“Good.” Ford smiled, but it melted almost immediately. his brow furrowed and his expression tipped towards a frown as he thought. “Wait, Stanley, why don’t you remember this event?”

Stand hands left the back of the chair to massage his temples as he sighed. “Oh right, that.” He coughed, suddenly uncomfortable. ”So uh- where’d you put that ol’ memory wiper, Poindexter?”

Ford blanched and he felt his heart thud to the floor in dismay. Any potential excitement about time travel whisked out of him immediately, replaced with horror as he realized what Stanley was referring to. It took a good second to choke out, “Oh- Absolutely not.”

Stan looked up, eyebrows raised. “Huh?”

Ford glared at him. “I’m not shooting you with that Stanley.”

Stan stared in obvious confusion at Fords sudden shift. “What, why? You already did it once.”

Dead serious, eyes hard and jaw set, Ford answered. “Yes. And it was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Stan blinked. Right. Well, they didn’t have time to unpack that right now. 

"You still haven't recovered fully from the first time."

"pffft, look at me, i'm fine! besides, apparently that wasn't the first time, right? That's how this time travel thing works?" Stan took in a breath and stood straighter, trying to look confidant about anything he was saying. “Look, it’s not like that this time. You’ll just erasing one event, not everything. Young Stanley will be fine- me I’m living proof, right?” 

It was true. This was almost guaranteed to be a successful mission, the fact that a future version of Ford had already done it practically proved it. That didn’t make Ford feel any better about it, but he nodded slowly. "Fine. But I don't like this."

"Yeah, neither do I. But we're both right, there's to much ridding on this- ya know just the universe and all -so we both just have to deal with it. I gotta let you go alone, and you gotta wipe out a teeny memory from young me. Capiche?"

Ford grit his teeth slightly. "Yes."

Stan fidgeted and looked away, suddenly seeming embarrassed. “Listen, 1986 Stan isn’t...gonna be what you expect exactly?” His lighthearted laugh was far from real. “Those years weren’t the best on your ol’ bro so just... don’t judge me, Stanford, okay?” 

Before Ford could even begin to formulate a response to that, his brother was coughing awkwardly and turning away. “Now, where’s that damn memory gun?”

Wordless, Ford went to the safe where he’d stored it in the hopes he’d never have to see it again, let alone so soon. He grabbed the gun, and it felt all too heavy in his hand. He pocketed the weapon in his trench coat and went back to his desk, grabbed the tape measure, and faced his brother. 

Stanley stared at it, then at him. The break in his voice tried desperately to pose as conversational. “Don’t forget to visit me a few minutes ago to give us that,” He grunted, pointing at the tape.

“Of course.”

“Be careful out there. Back then. Whatever.”

“I will.”

Ford went to pull the tape, but Stanley’s voice stopped him. 

“And Stanford?”

He looked back up immediately, “Yes?”

Stan's pause was so long Ford almost repeated himself.

Stan stared him down. “You _better_ come back.” 

Ford nodded once. His brother's tone wasn’t one that brooked argument. “I will.”


	3. Not Quite Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic attack warning in this chapter, for anyone looking out for that <3

And just like that, his twin was gone and Stanford was standing alone in the dark. 

He stood completely still, met with eerie silence tangible enough to make him consciously quiet down his breathing and uncomfortably aware of his heartbeat. He blinking the residual bright lights of the previous lab out of his eyes, and waited for his retinas to readjust. 

After a few seconds he could make out dull shapes in the murk, and one or two dull blinking lights that signified he was likely still in his lab beneath the house. He carefully made his way forward, and finding a wall and feeling along it until he came to the switch he knew was there. The lights fluttered on dimly, shedding harsh light on a scene that made him shiver. The lab was a wreck, it was scattered with papers and tools and random metal scrap, coffee mugs and a few empty bottles shoved onto any available surface. One machine had caution tape wrapped around it, and there was broken glass on the ground. He realized that out of the mess, he couldn't tell what was his and what Stanley must have added to in the years since the portal incident. He saw the sigil engraved into the side of his machinery, the one that he'd slammed Stanley into during their fight, and he winced. When powered up, he knew it got hot enough to easily burn through clothing and skin. And he hadn't even bothered to ask Stan about it since he got back. He noticed that his scribbles of triangles and eyes had been taken down and stuffed in a pile, which was something at least. The place certainly didn’t bring back any good memories. 

He shuddered. He had to focus on finding Stanley.

After a bit of creeping around, he noticed the first journal tucked among a stack of shiny textbooks on beginning calculus and physics that obviously weren’t his. It was all on things he’d learned before high school, he knew it like the back of his six-fingered hand. He peered closer, looking at the loose pages of notes scattered around them. It was the handwriting that caught his attention and made him realize. 

These were Stanley’s. 

He flipped through them, perplexed, turning over page after page of notes. Why was Stanley teaching himself calculus? He’d flunked out of algebra one. Ford flipped to a page with a drawing of the portal on it and calculations that had been furiously scribbled out. 

Oh. Right. 

He remembered the last conversation this Stanley had had with his Ford. This was gonna be rough. 

He took a deep breath and blew it out slow, turning to maneuver out of the lab and flicking off the lights on the way out. He approached the entrance to the rest of house, punching in the number on the keypad and stepping through silently. The frigid air hit him, and he frowned. The house was not only dark, but _freezing_. He could see his breath cloud in the air even though he was inside. The lab was run off a generator he himself had set up years ago, but the house was separate. He couldn't fathom why Stanley didn’t have the heat or lights on up here. 

The house appeared to be somewhere in between the state young Ford had left it in and the Mystery Shack this Stan was trying to make it into, but it was hard to tell in the dark. There was a slight glow coming from the direction of the kitchen, so he followed it instead of going towards the bedroom he new Stan stayed in, which had been his initial instinct. He made his way down the hall, stepping lightly on floorboards he knew wouldn't creek. He’d spent a lot of years being paranoid in this house. 

He peeked into the kitchen, and finally caught sight of his brother. His twin was slumped on the table, face turned towards the entrance and resting on his arm, snoring softly. The only light was a big battery powered camping lantern on the table. 

This would be the perfect opportunity to write the password down and leave, he wouldn’t even have to use the memory gun. But all he could do was stare. 

Ford remembered thinking Stanley looked old when they’d had their fight back in 1986. Looking at him now, all Ford could think was that Stan looked painfully young. There were less lines on his face, but the ones that were there were hard and weathered. Just a kid that had been through hell. The mullet was gone, his hair hung shaggy and uneven around his ears like he’d just taken scissors to it one day. There was a small nick in his ear that suggested he had. There were dark circles under his eyes, his skin pale and his cheeks too shallow. He was wearing the same hoodie Ford remembered over a cheaper version of the Mystery suit, with a hastily sewn patch over the shoulder. There were two empty beer bottles on the table, and dozens of sheets of paper with angrily crossed out attempts at codes and passwords. 

Ford couldn't just leave him here. Logically, he knew he must have the memory gun for a reason, his future self would't even have mentioned it if he wasn't going to need it. On top of that, the moment felt too fragile to leave. This Stanley wasn’t one he was ever going to see again. This wasn't a version of his twin he'd ever really gotten a chance to talk to. He felt strangely like he owed it to him to at least say _something_. This was his only opportunity, and even if Stan wouldn’t remember it, Ford would. It felt worth it. If writing a note and dipping was what he was supposed to do, the other Ford would have said so.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly stepped forward. His heart raced. He reached out a hand to touch young Stanley’s shoulder, and- 

A fist connected with his face. 

Stanley rocketed out of the chair, standing into a powerful uppercut across Fords jaw.

Ford hollered as his head snapping back, forearms coming up to protect himself as he stumbled away.

Stanley tripped back into the kitchen counter, hand scrabbling on it behind him and coming back with a knife, head shaking away sleep and drink alike. “Wha- what the fuck was that! Who’s there!?”

Right, maybe Ford should have thought of waking his twin up vocally before just grabbing him in his sleep. Hadn't he said something about chewing his was out of a car trunk? Could't blame a guy for being jumpy.

“Stanley!” Ford grabbed the lantern off the table and held it up to his throbbing face,”Stanley stop, look, it’s me!” He situated his glasses back in place from where they’d been knocked askew, “It's alright, I’m not going to hurt you!”

Stanley’s eyes bugged in the harsh light as he took in the man in front of him. “St-......Stanford?”

Ford nodded and held up and hand, both as a calming gesture and to show his six fingers. “Yes, Stan. It’s me, see? Calm down.”

He discreetly stretched his jaw, trying not to feel annoyed. But _damn_ did Stanley know how to punch, he was surprised he still had all his teeth after that.

His brother was staring at him, as if convinced that Ford would disappear in a puff of smoke if he blinked. That was disconcerting enough, but Ford was also a little preoccupied by the fact that Stanley still had a kitchen knife.

"Uh, Stan? You alright?"

Moisture was building up in Stanley's eyes, making them reflect the lantern light. He shook his head and looked at the table. His voice was oddly fragile. “I had like two beers, there’s-there’s no way I’m drunk enough for this.”

“You’re not hallucinating, Stanley.” Ford carefully put the lantern back down on the table and gestured awkwardly to himself. “As unbelievable as it must be for you, It...really is me.”

The knife clattered ground. 

There was a sob, before he could react Stanley was slamming him with a force that nearly took him off his feet. Arms wrapped around him in a crushing hug, his brothers face buried into his shoulder, and ford stood at a complete loss as Stan utterly broke down in his arms.

Stanley clung to him, babbling desperately between gasped breaths. “Stanford oh god- I’m so sorry, I never meant for anything to happen to you, I’m sorry, if I wasn’t so _stupid_ I could have saved you by now! Oh god, are you okay? How the fuck did you get out? You’re...you’re so old? I- I didn’t know what to do you- fell through and I- I’ve never been the smart one, I didn’t know what had happened to you, fuck Sixer I didn’t even know if you were _alive_ and I-I-“ 

Ford finally raised his arms to awkwardly hug Stan back, speaking in a way he hoped was reassuring. “Woah, woah, slow down Stan, hey. It’s okay, just uh, just breathe alright?”

He thought back to his own time, when Dipper had had a panic attack about Bill a few days after Weirdmageddon. He hadn’t known what to do, but talking him through it and giving him a hug had seemed to work, so he supposed he could try the same with Stanley. 

“Shhh. Just breathe Stan, it’s okay. I’m here now, just breath.”

He had never seen Stan like this before, even when they were kids. Sure he'd lost his temper from time to time, but his brother had always held it together for better or worse. But Ford supposed that no one had ever given Stan _permission_ to break down before. 

Young Stan sobbed painfully hard against him, fingers digging into his coat. “I’m- so- sorry-“

A piece of Fords heart snapped as he realized Stan thought he didn't believe him. He hugged him a little tighter. “I know, I know. I’m sorry too Stanley, just breathe.”

It seemed to be working. Stanley stopped trying to talk, at least, and was obviously trying with every ounce of his being to stop crying, but he didn't let go of Ford. Ford stood there with him, and didn't let go either. 

It took about five minutes to calm Stanley down to a level where he could communicate effectively, and his breathing had leveled out to a steady pace with the occasional hiccup. Ford gently pushed him back to get a look at his face.

His young twins face was blotchy and red, his eyes filled shame and refusing to meet his. “Sorry bout that Sixer. Donno what came over me it’s just been...” he shook his head, the pain in his face too complicated to put into words. “Hell.”

Ford nodded, and stepped away to pull them out two chairs facing each other. “I know Stan, take a seat.”

His brother did so with no argument, sitting heavily and sagging his head into his hands. “How the fuck did you get out of the portal?”

Ford grimaced, turning to get a cup from the kitchen cabinet and fill it at the sink, placing it in front of Stan. This was going to be hard to explain. “I didn’t. Well, not yet anyway." He took a breath, before admitting, "I’m from the future Stanley. I’m here to help you, but there’s really not that much I can tell you. And drink that.”

Stan stared at him through his shaking fingers, ignoring the water. He sounded beyond tired. “I...what?”

Ford frowned at his brother. “You’re shaking Stanley, and why is it so damn cold in here anyway?” He moved to hit the light switch, but nothing happened. He flicked it a few times with no result, Stanley groaned.

“Couldn’t pay the electricity bill, they cut me off. What do you mean you’re from the future?”

Ford stared. “What?”

“Hey man, I'm doing what I can, and it’s better than my car. Ain’t ever gonna say no to a roof over my head, that’s for sure." He finally drank some of the water, and continued, "Now stay on topic Sixer, time travel? That’s a thing now?”

Guilt settled and made a nice home for itself in Fords stomach. He knew Stan had said things weren't ever easy for him financially, but he had yet to see it first hand. He swallowed and sat across from his twin. “Oh. Well, yes, I’m here from our future to tell you how to get into the secret chamber in my lab.” He glanced at the table covered in password attempts. “It... looks like that's something you’ve been trying to figure out.”

Stanley stared at him. “But...wait, what? If my Fords still in the portal, can’t you just help me break you out?” He blinked at his own wording, "Wait, did I even say that right?"

Ford shook his head, “That’s...not how this works Stanley. I can only give you the password, that’s it.” He’d been wondering how to approach the next subject, but realized stalling was only going to make it worse. Stanley had always wanted his band-aids ripped off fast, literally and figuratively, and wouldn't appreciate a drawn out explanation. It didn’t make it much easier to say, though. He sighed, ”In fact, you’re not even going to remember this meeting.”

Stan's expression darkened, immediately becoming defensive. ”What, why not?”

“Because I’m going to remove it. I have a wea- device that can wipe things from your memory. You will have no recollection that I was even here.”

Something Ford had rarely seen on his brothers face took place behind his eyes. Deep, desperate, deprecating _fear_. 

“No. No no no, I can’t _do_ this without you Stanford, I can’t-“ He shook his head, breathing heightened again, knuckles turning white as he gripped his chair's arm rests, “I’ve failed you so many times already Ford please, you don't understand, you have to help me! it’s been five years already! Please! I- I can’t do this- don’t leave me alone again, i'm, I’m not _smart_ enough for you- I’m not _good enough_ , I-“

Ford had been expecting a belligerent reaction. Stan should be refusing to have his memories removed. _His_ Stanley had always seemed to have a hard control over any emotion but anger, it was something hard wired in him by a father who didn't believe in him otherwise, who called him weak. Ford was at loss for what to do with a Stanley that could barely keep it together for five minutes. Panic wasn’t something Stanley Pines did, and yet the one in front of him looked about ready to tear his own hair out. 

Eyes wide in alarm, Ford tried to get his twin back in track, and stop him from spiraling again. “Stanley! Stanley, stop! Calm down!”

Stanley lurched forward and grabbed him by the lapels. “No! You don’t understand, I have to get him back!” Tears were on his face but he didn’t seem to notice, he just kept going, voice cracking, “I _have_ to get my brother back Ford, I'd do anything, anything! But- but I just don’t know how! I can’t do this without you Stanford, I've never been worth anything without you!”

When Stanley said 86 had been rough, Ford hadn’t thought it’d be like this.


	4. Oh, The Hero You'll be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same panic attack warning as last time in this chapter just to be sure <3 ;3
> 
> also BiG FEeLz! these bros and their freakin BAGGAGE

Ford had only seen his brother look this scared when their niece and nephew had been in danger, and it wasn't a look he liked on him.

"I can't do this without you!"

Ford griped Stanley's shoulders and raised his voice in an effort to get through the haze of panic. “Yes you can!"

The doubt didn't leave Stanley's eyes, so Ford continued, "Listen to me Stanley, you **can!** You have! You will! I know it because it happened, it happened to _me_. My brother fought for me until the day I stepped out of that goddamn portal and he's fought for me every day since!”

The young man in front of him just shook his head, his hands dropping hopelessly from Ford's lapels. Ford gave him a little shake and raised his voice to a near yell, “Where’s the Stanley Pines that believes he can do anything? The one that refuses to back down from a challenge? The one that never lets anyone tell him no? _That’s_ the Stanley I need right now.”

Stan's voice was chillingly hallow, and it made Ford's insides want to shrivel up and die. “That Stanley died a long time ago.”

Ford got the sinking feeling that he wasn’t talking about the fake car accident. 

Burning hatred filled Stanley’s eyes, except it was directed inward. “And I am the piece of shit that’s left. The failure, dropout, good for nothing dipshit that got his own brother sent to a different fucking dimension. It should have been me to get kicked off of the face of the planet, not you.” 

Ford could hardly believe the words he was hearing, and grasped wildly for something to say to make Stan stop talking like that, “S-Stanley I-“ 

“No." Stan said over him, "I’d do anything to save you Stanford, Really. Anything. I’m sorry, but I... I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t think I ever did.” He drooped his head in defeat. 

Ford had to stop himself from flinching, he'd seen the truth behind Stan's words- his brother really would do anything and it wasn't something he liked to think about. He reached out and covered one of his twin's hands with his own. “That’s why I’m here.” 

Hearing Stan say those things about himself hurt worse than the punch he'd been dealt across the face earlier. He had no idea who'd given Stan the idea that he was worth less than Stanford, but he hoped to god it wasn't him. It was all too possible that it was, who else had put such unreachable standards on his twin? He swallowed back the sour thought that he'd become just like their father. 

“You need _one_ tip Stanley. That’s it. A single password that I didn’t bother to write down, that’s all it takes for Stanley Pines, a man who didn’t finish _high school_ , to fix and complete and multidimensional portal (the only one of its kind on the entire planet might I add) and get it running and fully functional. Stanley, you understand that _I_ needed help building this thing right? And you did it- do it- all by yourself. Do you realize how incredible that is?” Words were falling out of Fords mouth before he could even think them through, and he found himself realizing it too. He'd never thought Stan was dumb, but it was hitting him now that his brother was pretty damn intelligent too.

Stanley sniffed and searched his eyes, doubt now paired with hope in his gaze, “I- I really finish it?”

“Yes. You really do.”

“I get you back?”

Ford smiled, for the first time this entire conversation, and winked. “You sure do, Lee.”

The barest hint of a smile found Stan's face, and he tried a tired laugh. “How the _fuck_ do I figure out integrals?”

Ford snorted and patted his hand. “I have no idea.” 

He couldn't tell Stanley that it would take him thirty years to figure out. Not only did he not have it in him, but he doubted Stan would let him leave if he knew.

Stanley chuckled, but it wasn’t long lasting. He looked at the piles of paper scattered across the table and sighed. “Right. So what’s this hint you're giving me? The code?”

Ford nodded, glad to get to the point. “ Ah yes. Get a pencil, you’ll have to write it down. It would be suspicious if it was in my handwriting. Write that it’s for the secret section of the lab too, so you know what it’s for when you no longer remember.”

Stanley looked uneasy about that, but found his pencil on the ground were it had rolled off the table and turned a piece of paper to a clean side. “Alright. Hit me, what’s the password?”

“Jellybaby4562. Jelly baby as just one word.”

Stan gave him a sideways look. “Jelly baby?”

“Yes, it was your-“

His brother nodded and finished the sentence at the same time as him. “-favorite candy as a kid.”

Ford blinked owlishly, missing the point. “Yes, obviously. I had to pick something I’d remember, it hardly matters.”

“But you...remembered that?”

“What? Of course I remembered that Stanley, why wouldn’t I?” he said impatiently.

Stanley’s stare became slightly amused. “ _I_ didn’t even remember that.”

Ford huffed good-naturedly as he watched Stan right the password down and circle it several times, adding a few big arrows so it would be hard to miss. “Well you didn’t have to think of birthday presents to buy yourself, now did you.”

“Only for a few, I stopped counting,” Stan said flippantly, “Speaking of which, you’ve had quite a few more than me, haven’t you Sixer? Please tell me I don’t look that much like dad at your age.” The smile faded off his face. “That’s is...if I’m still around.”

The guilt in Ford's stomach squirmed, why did Stan assume he wasn't going to make it to Fords age? He laughed it off awkwardly. “As a matter of fact you look more like our old man than I do. But I’m sure people would think I act more like him than you ever will.” 

That got a bit of the smile back. “I donno Sixer, doesn’t seem like you turn out so bad.” 

Ford smiled back, then huffed out a sigh and rubbed his hands together. “Whelp, I should probably be getting back to my own time.” He stood, and Stanley stood so quickly with him that he knocked his chair over. He re-situated it gracelessly. 

“Wait you... have to leave now?”

“I’m afraid so, don’t want to give the time police any more reason to come here”

Stanley paled. “Alright, I’m not gonna argue with that.”

Ford reached into his pocket to wrap his fingers around the hilt if the memory gun, and dread settled in his gut. His heart thudded rapidly in his chest. "But... a few more minutes shouldn't be too risky. This is a fixed loop after all... I'm sure they _must_ be aware of it by now." he wasn't entirely sure who he was trying to convince.

He hadn't seen Stan's face light up like it was now since he'd ask the one in his own time to go on their boat trip. He felt a weird pang of nostalgia for his own twin, even though he had this younger version in standing right in front of him. They seemed like such vastly different people, yet he somehow missed them both.

Apparently 35 was still young enough to have a youthful twinkle in your eyes. Stan certainly somehow still had it. "You really think so?"

Ford tried to sound confident, "Yeah, why not? It's not like you could get in trouble anyway, you didn't actually travel in time."

"Oh yeah. How'd you do that by the way?"

Ford winced apologetically, "It's... probably best if you don't know."

Stan snorted and shrugged, "Whatever you say Poindexter. I'm already in trouble with enough cops on this planet, I don't need the "Bureau of Time and Space Continuum" or whatever on my ass too."

"It's the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadron, and don't worry, I won't let that happen."

Stan grinned dramatically,"Oh _wow_ , my hero. Look who thinks he's suddenly the alpha twin just cause he made it to his seventies. How do you know all this stuff anyway?"

Ford rolled his eyes, feeling a little more at ease. Stan had always had that effect on him, at least when they weren't fighting. He always ran anxious, and sometimes he forgot that Stan's upbeat demeanor balanced him out. "Again, probably best if you don't know. And i'm not in my seventies Stanley don't be ridiculous. Would you like some tea? I'm having some tea." He turned and got the kettle out of the cupboard, dusty from five years without use, and rinsed it in the sink. Whether this counted as stalling or not, he chose not to think about it. He was going to sit down and have a cup of tea with his brother, universe be damned.

Stan plopped back down in his seat heavily, scooping all papers but the one with the right password on it into a pile and out of the way. "Sure Sixer, why not."

The pot was already boiling by the time they realized Stan didn't have any actual teabags in the house to put in it. 

We could put some jerky in it?" Stan suggested from the disturbingly empty pantry.

"No, Stan."

"Come on, might be good!"

"I'm not having a meat flavored beverage Stanley."

"Suit yourself, I'm having jerky tea."

"Don't you have coffee?"

"I'm all out."

They eventually settled across the table from each other, Ford with a mug of hot water mixed with some old honey he'd found, Stan stirring his with a piece of beef jerky. He actually looked kind of happy, and it made Ford feel a little better about the state he'd been in when he first arrived.

He sipped his water, which kept the cold out if nothing else. Just another reminder of how bad Stan had it. He put his tea down and felt his pockets for his wallet.

Stan saw him and his expression immediately soured, catching on to him immediately. "What are you _doing_ Stanford."

Luckily, being absurdly paranoid in a small town with only one bank meant he usually kept money on him. He had about three hundred dollars, and he held it out to Stan. "Just take it."

Stan managed to look both offended and amused. "I'm not taking your handouts."

Ford rolled his eyes, "I'm not giving you handouts, I'm helping you. There's a difference." He waved his free hand at the ceiling. "Get some damned lights on in here."

Stan shook his head at the money. "I don't take charity. I might steal from people, but not if they just _give_ it to me."

Ford grit his teeth, "it's not charity you stubborn knucklehead, its for _my_ house! I'll make you pay me back in the future if it makes you feel better."

Stan raised an eyebrow. "And where exactly am I going to think this came from when I wake up tomorrow with no memory? Cause trust me, if there was a way to pull money out of thin air I would have found it by now." 

Ford cursed inwardly. Stan was right, Ford couldn't just mess with the future directly like that. He sighed, defeated, and put his money away. "Fine, yes you're right." 

His twin smirked, glad he'd won. "What's with the sudden generosity Fordster? Old age making you go soft?"

The teasing question hit Ford harder than Stan had any idea it would. Did Stan really think he wouldn't have helped him if he knew he really needed it? His next thought floored Ford even more when he realized there were certain times in his past where he wasn't sure he _would_ have helped Stanley. Hell, he'd _known_ Stan needed help when he got kicked out of their parents's house, and he hadn't said a word. He let his brother sleep in a car for ten years while he stayed in a dorm room covered by a scholarship. When had he ever given Stan reason to think otherwise? Reason to think he cared at all about his well-being? Stan had said better than he ever could; some brother he turned out to be.

He looked down at his hands, not able to bring himself to look Stan in the eye as he admitted, "No Stanley, I'm just trying to be a good twin for once in my life." He forced himself to look up. "Luckily, I've got you to teach me how to do that."

Stan stared at him, obviously dumbfounded by that response, and Ford gave him a small smile and finished his make-shift tea. “Speaking of which, he's probably mad at me for taking so long." He pushed his chair back and stood. "I should go."

He washed his mug and put it in the cabinet, making sure there was no obvious trace that another person had been there. Stan stayed silent at the table behind him, waiting for Ford to finish and come back to stand across the table from him. 

It took him a moment to say his next words. "I’m going to need to wipe your memory now Stan. It won’t hurt, I promise. That said, It’ll probably be best if you stay sitting down. you'll go right back to your previous state, and I found you asleep.”

Stan eyes widened a bit as he realized they were doing his _now_. “Stanford I- you- you really have to? Erase it? Erase this? I won’t remember... anything?”

Ford nodded sadly, reaching into his coat and taking out the gun. It was cold. “I’m sorry Stanley, it’s the only way. You can't know I was here, we can’t change history.”

His brother swallowed, then nodded back. “Alright. Okay. Yeah, yeah okay.” He situated the paper with the password in front of him, moved his jerky tea, and looked back with fearful but trusting eyes. He was taking this surprisingly well. “I'm not- It’s-“ he voice choked off, but he tried again and it came back shaky. “It’s really _really_ good to see you Stanford. Just- listen, I’m going to get you back, okay? I **promise**.”

Ford nodded, hoping Stan knew how much he trusted him now. “I know.” 

He held up the gun.

Stan tried to look brave. "See you soon, Bro-bro."

Ford didn't trust his voice to say anything to that. He _wished_ that he could tell Stanley that they would see each other soon. That he'd see his brother step out of the portal before reached his forties, let alone fifties. That he wasn't about to spend the next 25 years of his life on his own. Instead he grit his teeth, checked his watch, and set the memory gun to only take away the past hour. He stared at the gun in his hands, and then up at the face he was going to shoot it at.

This was all too hauntingly, horrifically familiar. The fact that Stan just looked like a younger, more broken version of himself did nothing but make matters worse. He was about to repeat the worst action he'd ever taken against his brother, at a time when Stan needed him the most.

He didn't know if he could do it. this time, it didn't feel like there was a threat, it just felt like he was shooting his brother. Dipper and Mabel weren't beside him, and the world wasn't ending. He didn't feel like a hero. Again, he felt like the villain. Stan was always going to be the hero.

Something in Stan's expression seemed to change. The fear melted away, replaced by that indestructible protectiveness that had always come so naturally to him. 

"Stanford?"

"It's just charging up Stanley, you needn't worry."

Stan shook his head, he knew that was a lie. Somehow, he knew. "No, Ford, listen. Its okay. I donno what happened but... it's okay." He gave a nod, a clear signal to go ahead, the same determination on his face as when he suggested they switch places during Bill's apocalypse. Somehow, beyond all reason, he knew it was exactly what Ford needed to hear.

Ford felt his throat clench up, and he tried to stop his hands from shaking. “Stanley?”

“Yeah?”

His voice was hoarse when he spoke, and he didn't bother to try and clear it. “I forgive you. In the end. It’s takes me too damn long but... I forgive you. For everything.”

Stanley’s eyes welled up again that night as he took on a wobbly smile and whispered, “Thanks, Sixer”

And, not for the first time, Ford had to try to keep his hands steady and see through blurry eyes as he shot his own brother.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter where Ford has a hard time

Stanley's eyes rolled back as the beam subsided, and he slumped foreward.

“Stanley!” On instinct, Ford dropped the gun and ran to catch Stan by the shoulders and keep his head from hitting the table, lowering him gently into a sleeping position on his arms, folded over the paper with the password scribbled on it. 

Ford let out the breath he’d been holding and tried to stop his shaking hands. Stanley was fine. Of course he was fine, he was just asleep. Ford had to mentally assure himself of the fact three times, _he's fine-he's fine-he's fine_ , Stan had all his memories intact except the last hour and Ford had not just turned him into an amnesiac. Again. 

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from stepping close and carefully checking that his brother’s pulse was steady and his breathing normal. He could hardly tell over the thudding of his own pulse in his fingers and the rushing sound in his ears.

All he could think of was the blank lack of recognition on his Stanley’s face after Weirdmageddon . Stan was _still_ recovering from that. Mabel had helped a lot -both of the twins had- but it had been far from an instant recovery. Ford was trying to help as best he could, offering his own versions of the memories for the times he’d been around in Stan's life. The whole situation really drove home the realization of just how much of it he'd missed. There was so much of Stan's past that no one could help him with. Ford hated the look Stan got in his eyes when he thought of something and didn't know if it was a real memory or not, and had no one verify it for him.

He stared at young Stan's face now, which looked perfectly peaceful in sleep as opposed to the empty look Ford feared to see. It made him feel like he could breathe again, at least.

Ford stooped to pick up the memory gun, shoving it in his pocket to get it out of sight. It was heavy and obvious in his coat, it felt like taking a murder weapon from a crime scene. He had to stop himself from reaching out and shaking Stan awake again, just to ask him if he knew his own name -if he knew where he was. He had to trust it had worked, but that didn’t make his heart beat any slower.

Trying to clear his head, he made his way quickly to the broom closet in the hall and grabbed an old but thick blanket, paused for a second, then dug out his wallet and tucked the three hundred dollars in a folded quilt where it was just obvious enough to spot whenever Stan went to put the blanket back. Stan would surely assume he'd missed it before, thinking it was his lucky day whenever he did find it. Satisfied, Ford darted back to the kitchen. Stanley had passed out hard from the memory wipe, so he felt it was safe to tuck the wool blanket around him without too much risk of waking him up. Stan continued snoring away. After a long moment, Ford placed a tentative hand on his brother's unruly hair.

“You’re going to be okay, Stan. I promise.” He whispered. 

He couldn’t stay here. He took one last long look at Stan, before tearing himself away, flicking off the lantern on the table and heading back down the hall in the dark. He made it to the living room before collapsing on the armchair with his head in his hands.

He could't stay here, he knew that. But he couldn't leave yet either.

He cursed under his breath. “Fuck.”

The shaking didn’t stop. He was glad it was dark, and that he was alone so one would see this. He took his glasses off and dropped them into his lap, running his hands up his face and into his hair. He repeated the motion over and over again, worrying his lip between his teeth. He needed to sit and think, sort out how this time loop was even possible and what the ramifications might be, he needed time to mull this all over in his head. And he really needed to deliver the measuring tape and then get back to his own time, as soon as possible. But sitting there, in this house in a state of half his mess and half Stanley's attempt at a solution, this weird stage of in-between he should have never been a part of, everything he'd seen and heard in the past hour haunted his brain. He couldn't get over the fact that he'd left this Stanley on his own, and that here he was was about to do it again. All he really wanted was for his Stan to come around the corner with pancakes and say some stupid joke, something that proved he actually knew anything about his life, that he was actually still him and not just an empty shell with Stan's face and lifeless eyes. 

He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, applying pressure until he could see swirls and sparks behind his eyelids. He thought back to their petty fights after he had gotten back, and it made him feel sick. Seeing this Stanley, knowing what he’d willingly put himself through to get Stanford back...it made every word he’d said to Stanley seem immature, ungrateful and shameful. What did it say about him that it took the whole world nearly ended to get him to say _thank you?_

He huffed out a breath and shook his head. What was he doing? He could do this at home, in his own him, once all of this was over. He'd have all the time in the world to have a mental breakdown, right now he still had a mission to finish.

He stood up, straitening out his coat and brushing his pants of non-existent dust. He felt his pockets for everything he needed for the next step of the process: informing Stanley and by extension himself of the time loop in the first place. Notebook - _check_ , pen - _check_ , tape measure - _check_ , memory gun - _check_. He took out the tape measure, and prepared himself for another time jump.

He froze before releasing it. Something instinctual made him stop. 

What the hell was he supposed to say?

It had been hard enough to convince Stanley to let him come here on his own. If he acted like anything was off, like it had been anything but smooth sailing, there was no way his twin would let Ford go. He couldn't tell Stan to let his Ford to com alone, it would only make him more suspicious and Stanley hadn't mentioned him saying anything like that. It could potentially ruin the timeline if Stan was too uneasy. Stan would know as soon as he'd seen him that Ford was a nervous wreck, that the last hour had been both painful to witness and an eyeopener he hadn't know he needed. 

Ford would have to pretend. He'd have to act like everything was fine. 

He swallowed back the sour thought. He knew he needed to talk to Stanley about all of this -hell there was a _lot_ they needed to talk about- but this was neither the time nor the Stanley for that. For once, he wished he was as good at lying as his brother was. He just hoped he could keep Stan distracted enough to keep from reading him like an open book, as he had a habit of doing.

He took a deep breathe, stilled his hands, and released the tape measure. 

The soft afternoon light still came as a shock after complete darkness. He blinked and looked around to get his bearings, realizing he hadn't moved an inch. He was standing right behind the armchair now filled with his brother -a far more wrinkled version he was much more used to- watching Ducktales and pretending to look bored. 

He stared down at his twin for a long moment, letting the normalcy of the moment ease his mind. 

"Stanley!"

"GAH!"

Stanley jumped in his seat and chucked the remote, turning to berate Ford for scaring him, but Ford couldn't meet his eyes. He pretended to be invested in his watch. "Stanley, I need you to listen to me, this is important”

He managed to get all of the information across, hopefully pulling off the state of science-induced excitement he'd usually be in if he wasn't ridden with guilt. Stanley seemed suspicious, but more of the science involved than of Ford's confidence in the matter. He scribbled down the note, handing it to Stan, fairly sure his performance had been convincing enough. 

"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you."

Stan grunted back, looking conflicted at most. “Oh yeah, for sure uh, future Ford.”

Satisfied, Ford went to pull out the tape measure for a third time, but paused and looked up at his brother.

He physically couldn't get himself to leave without saying it.

"Stanley?"

His twin stared back, perplexed. "Uh...Yeah?"

“Thanks. Again. For saving me. For...everything.”


	6. New Days Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter. Thanks for getting this far!

“Thanks. Again. For saving me, for...everything.”

Met with only the surprised look on his brother's face, Ford pulled the tape measure to finally be sent back to his own time. The time machine disappeared from his hands as expected, staying in the time he'd just left, and he found himself standing in a slightly brighter version of the room he’d just been in. 

Wait a minute. 

Something felt off, unease buzzed in his chest. It had been evening when he’d left his original time, only just getting dark. He couldn’t have taken all night, it wasn't possible. Fearing the worst, that maybe this wasn't his own time at all, he frowned and called out hesitantly into the suddenly empty feeling house. 

“Stanley? Hello?”

He jumped at a loud crash and yelp from above him. Looking up, he followed the sound of sudden scrambling from upstairs, followed by stomps down the stairs that were alarmingly fast. A familiar voice, though with an unusually frantic tone, called out. “Ford?!”

He turned to the stair case just as Stan- his Stan, hopefully- came charging at him. Ford didn't have time to step away before his brother grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him like a rag doll. “What the fuck is wrong with you Stanford!?”

Ford squawked indignantly, worry eating away at his insides. “Gah, get off me Stanley!?” He barked, trying to shove him away, but Stan was having none of that. 

He did, at least, stop shaking him to howl in his face instead, eyes hard with an anger stemmed from panic. “What the hell happened to you, Sixer?!”

Ford gawked at his twin. “Me? What the hell happened to _you?!_ ” Stan looked-and smelled-like he’d spent the last week in the trunk of a car. And that he hadn’t eaten anytime that week. His hair was as wild as his eyes, he reeked of old coffee, and his clothes looked like they hadn't been washed in days. 

“You said it was gonna be a couple hours!! _Hours_ Stanford!!”

Stanford paled and he stopped struggling to stare at Stan. “Wait, how long was I gone?” 

Stan bared his teeth and all but growled, “ _Five days!_ ”

Ford's eyes bulged. “Five days!? Oh-oh my god Stanley, I’m so sorry! I don’t know how this could have happened I-“

Stanley shook him again, once and hard. “Five fucking _days_ Ford! Five fucking days where I had to sit here and wonder if I was gonna ever see your sorry ass again! Thinking dear _god_ why’d I ever fucking let him go alone?! And this time I had nothing! There's no journals, no stupid fucking machine to bring you back, just-” his voice cracked, but he seemed too riled up to care.

Before today, Ford would have seen this outburst as nothing but an angry loss of temper, and probably would have thought of it as disproportionately so. But looking at his brother now, the exact same pain and fear he’d seen in the young Stan's eyes was shining through. The ol' sucker had just gotten better at hiding it. So, instead of starting a fight, Ford did exactly what his instincts had told him last time. 

“I know, I know Stanley, I’m so sorry.” He gripped Stan's arms and looked him in the eye, speaking calmly and firmly. “I came back straight away, I promise. There must have been some delay caused by the tape measure staying in one time and sending me to another. But it’s okay now, I’m okay.”

Stanley swallowed hard, and Ford could tell he was trying to stay mad but wavering. “Yeah? Another one of your science thingies going wrong, huh? Why is it that every time I fucking have you here again you get sent off the face of the fucking planet?”

Ford resisted the urge to argue, and went with his gut. “I don’t know, but I’m back now, Stan.”

It was working. Stan's anger and panic were boiling down. The ex-conman took in a deep breath, then asked, “You’re- you're good? Nothing happened it...it went okay?”

“Everything went as planed except the end there, which I wasn’t even aware of until I noticed the light change. Young Stan got the password and remembers nothing, and-" he made a show of looking around the room, "-looks like the universe is still in tact.”

Finally, Stan lost his aggressive pose and sagged a little, still gripping Ford's shoulders but almost using them as a support now. “Dammit I...I really thought I lost you again, Sixer.”

Still going with his gut, as it had been working so far, Ford did what he hoped would be calming and not give Stan and emotionally constipated heart attack.

He stepped in and hugged him, speaking softly. “I know.”

Stan stiffened under him. “Woah uh, hey, what- what are you-?“

Ford just hugged him tighter.

Stan stood stunned for a few seconds before hesitantly, almost nervously, hugging Ford back. it was so different from the way young Stan had clung on to him, it hurt to feel how far apart they'd grown. But after a while, Ford finally felt Stan relax into it with a tired exhale. His hug turned real, solid, and just for a second it felt like it used to when their were kids, before the world had ripped them apart.

Stan muttered gruffly, “Next time, I don’t give a rats fuzzy ass what it is, I’m coming with ya. That’s final.” 

Ford nodded. “Sounds like a deal.”

They pulled apart, both averting their gazes and standing in awkward poses. 

Stanley could only keep that up for so long however. He looked about ready to collapse, and Ford raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Stan, go take a shower.”

His brother glared at him “Oi!”

Ford rolled his eyes with a laugh, “I’ll make you some food, now go take a shower knucklehead, you look like you fell out of a truck.”

Stan poked a finger against Ford's chest. “I _have_ fallen out of a truck before and I’ll have you know I looked badass as hell doing it!”

“I’m sure you did. That doesn’t mean you can smell up my house.”

“ _Your_ house? I paid the mortgage for 30 years!”

They were both grinning now, and Ford felt better than he had in a a long while. Worn out, hungry and tired, but better somehow. He gave Stan a friendly pat on the shoulders on his way past him to the kitchen. 

Stan's grin fell slightly with sudden concern and he put a hand out to stop Ford before he'd made it two steps.

"Woah there, wait, what happened to your face?"

Ford frowned and reached up to inspect it. His face? What was- he flinched when his hand met his jaw. Oh yeah, young Stanley's terrific uppercut skills must be showing on his chin right about now. "Oh that. You did, Stanley."

Stan's eyes widened. "What? Seriously? Why is it when the two of us see each other one of us gets punched in the face?"

Ford laughed at that. "To be fair, I did startle you."

Stan's look turned smug and triumphant. "So you admit you were the unreasonable one!"

Ford rolled his eyes and continued to the door. “Shower. Food. And then you should get some sleep.”

Stan groaned and ran his hands up his face. “Oh god I need a _week_ of sleep. And some coffee. And a fortune. And a vacation.”

Ford grinned, looked back, and leaned in the doorway.

“How does a vigorous boat trip to an unknown area of the north Atlantic full of danger and anomalies sound?”

Stanley grinned back. “Perfect.”

Ford turned away towards the kitchen, calling over his shoulder. "You owe me three hundred dollars, by the way."

Stan followed behind him, "What? Why?"

"The random cash you found in the broom closet? That was from me."

There was a long pause behind him. Then footsteps took off down the hallway.

Fords face fell as he realized where exactly his brother was going. "Are you serious Stanley? You've lived here for thirty years! You never even looked in there?" He called out to his brother, who he could hear rifling through the closet. 

His twin's voice called back, "Do I look like the kinda guy who uses a broom closet to you? YES IT'S STILL HERE!!! FREE MONEY!!"

Shaking his head with a chuckle, Stanford went off to make them both some food. He was glad he'd been able to keep his promise to young Stanley, even if his brother couldn't remember it.

Yeah. Everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! I love these two brothers so much, I think there's a lot about their rocky relationship to explore. I always wondered how Ford would react to seeing Stanley being vulnerable, so that's how this fic was born.


End file.
